


Yield

by RhineGold



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: (but all terrible), Canes, F/M, Femdom, goldenswan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:36:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29712447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhineGold/pseuds/RhineGold
Summary: Emma Swan, just after the Curse breaks, finds herself in the possession of a certain dagger.
Relationships: Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold/Emma Swan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Yield

**Author's Note:**

> Would you believe I forgot I wrote this? Written for the Kink Meme. I believe they requested dom!Emma being corrupted by the dagger? 
> 
> Contains rape and violence. And things with canes.
> 
> (Written in 2011)

“Bet you thought you were clever, didn’t you? Planning all this? Playing everyone?" 

He says nothing, staring at her with impassive, unreadable eyes. 

The door to the cell is wide open, but he remains where he landed after her vicious shove, half-sprawled in the floor, his cane several feet away on the concrete. Magic seems to have changed him subtly - he still looks like Gold, but his hair seems to curl slightly, clinging to his throat as he swallows evenly. His eyes are as dark as ever, but they seem brighter somehow. 

Emma drops down to sit on her desk, balancing the strange, wavy dagger across both thighs. Absently, her fingers trace the name etched there - one she can hardly believe, but there is no refuting this kind of evidence. 

She feels strange, now that magic is in the world. Something heady, something powerful, is within her now. She feels as though she could reach out and crush him beneath her heel, and that she might laugh as she did so. Anger boils up in her then - this man, this monster… He left her son to die, forced her to risk life and limb, all so he could gain an edge in a conflict neither she nor Henry cared one whit about. 

"I guess you didn’t bet on this, did you?” She asked, smiling tightly. “Didn’t count on bringing magic back just to have it bite you in the ass." 

When he doesn’t answer, she hops off the desk, coming closer to the cell. "Answer me. Is this what you wanted? What you planned?”

He swallows convulsively, face twisting into a scowl. “…No,” He snaps finally. 

“Good." 

She drops down, straddling his lap suddenly, and now he has the good grace to look surprised. 

"They tell me you were kept in a cage in that other place - that you were a dangerous animal that needed to be locked up since you couldn’t be put down…” Her fist closes over his hair, twisting his face up. “…And they didn’t even have this, did they?” She asks, pressing the tip of the dagger to his throat.

“…No…” He whispers, voice choked. 

“No,” She echoes, releasing his head with a sharp shove. “You like to screw people over, don’t you, Rumpelstiltskin?”

He opens his mouth and closes it, trying to put his protest into words. “…I give people choices,” He says finally.

“Funny,” She replies, using the flat of the dagger to tilt his face up. With her other hand, she tugs on his tie until it comes free. “It doesn’t feel that way to us." 

Setting the dagger aside, she reaches out and slides his jacket free of his shoulders. "Don’t move unless I make you,” She orders softly. Using a hand on the back of his throat, she pushes him until he is kneeling, leaning his shoulders and upper body against the cot. Taking both of his wrists, she twists each arm behind his back until she can bind them in place with the silk of his tie. 

He remains there, one cheek on the thin sheet of the cot, the position obviously taxing on his bad leg. He is breathing heavily with the effort, his shoulders hitching as he tries to shift to a comfortable position. 

Emma ruffles his hair with mock affection before sliding her hands down his shoulders, to his sides. He bites his lip as she tugs his soft shirt free of his waistband. The belt is next, and she considers using it to tie him to the bars of the cell. Next time, she decides, discarding it. His trousers, shoes, and socks come next, and his is naked but for the silk dress shirt that barely affords him any modesty. 

She runs one hand over his back and lower, cupping the pleasing shape of his rear. His right leg is a knot of scar tissue, but his left is shapely and delicate. His waist is trim and narrow, curving into soft, rounded hips. His skin is pale and almost seems to shine under the harsh florescent lights and it is soft as she digs her fingers into it. He bites back a sound that might have been a whimper, and she slaps him lightly. “Don’t muffle yourself. I want to hear you.”

“…What are you going to do to me?” He asks softly, voice husky and lower than she has ever heard it. 

“I’m going to do to you what you’ve done to everyone else in this town,” She replies. 

He feels her shift behind him, and he cannot figure out what she is doing until her fingers are delving between the globes of his ass, seeking out the small, clenched entrance there. After a few moments of probing, she snarls and pushes to her feet. He can hear her rummaging in the drawers of her desk, but he cannot raise his head to look while her command is still in effect. 

When she returns, something cool and wet coats her fingers and he shudders despite himself. The air smells of coconut and he swallows the sudden bile in his throat as her fingers breach him. 

He makes a sound, a soft cry of dismay, and she chuckles before scissoring her fingers. This wrings another sound and he closes his eyes when he realizes they are filling with tears. 

Blessedly, the fingers are gone, but the relief is far too short-lived. He gasps when he feels it press against him. He tries to turn his head but can’t, and instead whimpers, “You can’t be serious…”

“As a heart-attack,” She answers darkly, forcing the tip of the cane into him.

“It’s dirty!” He protests, voice rising as his mind reels, “It’s been on the ground - please - please take it out!”

“But you don’t mind getting dirty, do you, Rumpelstiltskin?” She murmurs, twisting the cane, pressing it deeper. “You play that way - fight that way all the time…”

He sobs as another unyielding inch splits him apart - it is too solid, too hard inside him, and it _hurts_. “Emma, please…”

“What would you do to have it stop?” She asks suddenly, sounding contemplative.

“Anything…” He whispers, throat closing on another sob. “Please…" 

"But Rumpelstiltskin,” She says sweetly, forcing another inch inside, twisting and pressing until he feels he might burst from it, “…You already will. Anything I tell you. Forever." 

Her nails dig into his thighs as she pulls him back, forcing him deeper still onto the wooden rod. "Now be a good boy, Rumpelstiltskin, and tell us who you belong to.”

“…You,” He sobs out, feeling something crack in him under the weight of her commands and the torture in his body, “You, Emma, please…”

“Good,” She sounds pleased and he relaxes his shoulders as the cane begins to withdraw. “Now let’s be sure you don’t forget it…”

He screams as she rams the cane forward again.

**Author's Note:**

> I've heard a rumor that Tumblr is starting to delete blogs with pornographic fiction so I'm migrating my fiction blog's works here.


End file.
